


Ending the Search

by heroicclarke



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Clarke Griffin - Freeform, Commander Lexa, F/F, Polis, The 100 - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 20:04:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4193151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heroicclarke/pseuds/heroicclarke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Clarke find the redemption she was looking for after leaving Camp Jaha, or will she be faced with an even bigger surprise than she had ever dreamed of?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ending the Search

"May we meet again," the mantra cycled through Clarke's head.

"May we meet again,"  _shut up, I can't go back._

"May we meet again," tears threatened to overcome the barricade erected specifically for them.

"May we meet again," two people had told Clarke that agonizing combination of words in less than a day.

"May we meet again," Clarke loved them both, but she had left one in order to find the other and escape the reality of her deeds.

Clarke plodded through the forest, not having a particular ambition in mind besides the ever present desire to find Polis, and with that, Lexa.

Lexa may have betrayed Clarke and her people to the mountain men, lied, and left them to die, but it didn't take Clarke long to realize that is exactly what she would have done had she been dealt the same hand. Decisions made in the absence of feelings made the wisest of leaders. Clarke made that decision, too, and she was the one that would have to live with it. Clarke and Lexa were the same in some aspects. Whether it be a simple conversation or the twitch of a hand, they both chose their people over their hearts' hunger. That is why they both left.

Clarke wandered through the trees, suffocated by the closeness of their trunks and the darkness generated by their broad leaves. They reminded her of Mount Weather; the feeling of being trapped and unaware of her surroundings. Clarke had never experienced the feeling before her imprisonment at Mount Weather, but she could never shake the nagging memories whenever she roamed the woods. Clarke narrowed her eyes and tried to banish every lurking thought that prowled inside her brain. Even as a wave of exhaustion swept through her body, the thoughts seemed to never grow weary enough to permit her a moment of peace from the din in her cranium.

As night fell, the darkness became more penetrating, forcing Clarke to stop for the night. Regretting her decision not to bring any supplies, she dropped down to her hands and knees. She crawled around for a few moments, searching for a softer patch of moss to lay her head on. Clarke was preparing for rest, not sleep. The malevolent thoughts in her head would doubtlessly turn into snarling and wicked beasts of dreams as soon as slumber guided her mind. Within moments, Clarke was sprawled out on the ground, thankful that the harsh winds of winter hadn't yet exhaled across the area. Although they would reach the region in a matter of weeks, and Clarke desperately hoped she would be protected from them in the midst of the main camp of the Grounders.

Clarke drifted in and out of a nightmare-plagued sleep. Regardless of her previous conclusion, she was able to catch a few hours of sleep in small increments before the sun began dragging itself into the sky. Clarke's hand closed around the hilt of her dagger before she even woke completely. She quickly scrambled to her feet and surveyed her surroundings. The dappled light from the sun illuminated the ground, revealing that nothing had encountered Clarke during the night. Once the initial influx of fear subsided, another urgent perception reached its peak: hunger. The pangs of hunger struck Clarke with such force that she knew she needed to prioritize finding safe food over anything else.

_If only Bellamy were here, he would know how to track, kill, skin, gut, and cook a deer. I only know how to kill._

Clarke cautiously walked forward, scanning the trees around her for anything that could be sharpened into a spear. Within minutes, she had found a promising stick and was whittling it into a sharp point. 

 _More death, that's exactly what I need,_ Clarke thought sarcastically.

Clarke shoved the loathsome ideas out of her head and finished making her spear. She continued forward with the crude weapon in search for the gentle creature that would soon be just another weight on Clarke's shoulders, another life taken that never should have been. 

After stalking the sensitive animal for a few minutes, Clarke had finally come close enough to heft the spear over her head and launch it at the creature. The sharpened weapon flew through the air and impaled itself in the deer's flank, causing it to fall onto its side. Clarke sprinted towards it, unsheathing her dagger. She wanted to cause the deer as little pain as possible before it died. She killed it quickly with a swift slash to the neck. A single tear splashed onto the dirty fur on the deer's head, Clarke's first kill since the massacre at Mount Weather. 

"Yu gonplei ste odon," she whispered as the light faded from its eyes.

Following the gruesome process of preparing some parts of the animal to cook, Clarke perched herself on a log near a pitiful fire. She had had the forethought to grab only a pack of matches before she left. Luckily the rash decision may have saved her life. However, the presence of the matches didn't ensure a roaring fire, and the sticks Clarke had managed to find didn't provide the toasty warmth she had hoped for. Clarke grabbed a stick from the ground and stabbed it into a small chunk of meat. She pressed it close to the wisp of flame dancing dismally in the heart of the stick pile. Clarke stared at the meat, transfixed by the light glimmering off of its slick surface. She was lost in the depths of her own head. 

Once Clarke deemed the meat edible, she devoured the morsel and prepared a second. The piece had been able to curb her hunger for now, but she if she were to make it to Polis, she'd need to conserve strength and save food for later when her luck ran out. The second piece was ready as the sun reached its climax in the sky, creating wavering patterns on the ground from the shadows of the leaves. 

Clarke cooked seven more large pieces of meat and wrapped them in a large leaf, barely managing a chuckle as she realized how primitive the action was. Her mild delight was cut short by the realization that she would have to leave the rest of the deer here. She didn't want to leave it to rot, wasting over half of the animal, not to mention its valuable pelt that could be used for warmth when the weather grew less favorable for this time of year, but there was no possible way that she could carry it with her.  Perhaps she would reach Polis before the icy fingers of winter danced across the trees and painted the world white with frost and snow.

"I'm so sorry," Clarke whispered as she turned her back on the fallen creature. She shouldered her spear, grabbed the food, and continued forward on her trek toward Polis.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~

After a few hours of walking, Clarke felt a growing horror in the pit of her stomach. She was walking aimlessly without a known water source around, and she hadn't even brought a canteen with her. She paused, straining her ears for the tell-tale splashing noise that might reveal water nearby. Nothing, not even a minute dripping could be perceived over the raucous clamor of the birds singing and cawwing in the trees above. Clarke let out a frustrated growl. She spun in a circle, peering at her surroundings, in search for a downwards slope. Considering the importance of gravity, she needed to go downhill if she were to find water. Nothing. Clarke thought of another idea, and approached the nearest tree. It had low enough boughs that she could drag herself onto them, and they seemed thick enough to support her weight. Clarke tested the lowest branch, it hardly moved as she pulled it towards the ground. She used it as leverage to swing onto it. Clarke began the slow process of testing branches, clamboring onto them, and repeating. The last thing she wanted was to fall out of the tree and shatter a bone, or multiple bones, with no one within hours around her to hear her cries.

Clarke finally climbed nearly 40 feet. She paused and slowly inched her way onto the thickest branch she could find. Peering out between the leaves, Clarke could barely see a thing. She crawled further, praying that the thinning branch would be able to support her. With a heart-stopping crack, the branch gave way, sending Clarke plummeting towards the ground. Clarke desperately grasped at branches as she fell. Her hand gripped one, slowing her descent, but the force of her fall snapped it and she continued falling further. Clarke made a final futile attempt at halting her fall, snatching at the lowest branch of the tree. Her fingers missed the last branch by mere centimeter and she hit the ground with a sickening crunch.

Clarke let out a gasp of pain. Soon her medical training kicked in and she assessed her body for any injuries. She had banged her knee on a root, causing a lump to form almost immediately. However the burning sensation on her knee didn't even compare to the raging fire of her wrist. It was bent at an odd angle.

_Broken._

Clarke cursed her stupidity. Now she would have to attempt to survive against who knows what with a broken wrist. Gritting her teeth, Clarke stood up and leaned against the tree, testing out her injured leg. Luckily, she could put her weight on it. Clarke hobbled a few steps forward, trying to shake off the pain. Once she determined she could walk, her mind raced through the materials necessary to make a crude splint.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Once Clarke had set the bone, she took a long-awaited rest. The sun sank lower into the sky, elongating the shadows that could just as easily be a tree as they could be ghosts. Clarke drew her bruised legs up to her chest and prepared for another night alone. Chewing on a few bites of meat, Clarke imagined what Polis would be like. Would the children dash about in the street, playing and making mischief? Or would they be in school? Would they be in training to be warriors? Clarke longed for answers about the Grounder culture. There was one thing she did know, and that was that she would interrogate Lexa for hours on end about their ways and their past. Clarke fell asleep thinking of young children dressed in the same outfit as her commander.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~  

A sharp noise snapped Clarke back into consciousness. She banished her nightmares and focused on her surroundings. A dense fog had settled on the forest while she slept, lowering her visibility. Clarke tensed, desperately trying to decipher between tree and human. As time passed, she realized it must have been a tranquil animal, not a hostile threat. Clarke rested her back against a tree, losing focus from the trees that surrounded her. A small voice in the back of her head whispered unsettling truths, telling her that she needed to get real medical supplies soon or she may injure her arm much more than a simple sprain. Clarke shuddered and tried to muffle the voice. However she knew it was right. If she didn't receive real medical help soon, she could have a lot more consequences. Lost in her woeful thoughts, Clarke was too late to realize someone had entered the clearing in which she was sprawled, unprotected.


End file.
